We all sat in a school classroom on a rainy Saturday. In front of each of us was a booklet, a Scantron sheet, and some pencils.
As we waited for the go-ahead to start the SAT, I couldn’t help feeling that those of us in this classroom were at a point of divergence.
We all were about to embark on a great quest with this de-facto college entrance exam. But some of us were going to get every question right, and others were going to do much worse.
The opportunity was equal, but the outcome would not be.
When the scores came in, I wasn’t particularly close to the top. Any aspirations of going to a prestigious school were out the window.
In many places, such a development would spell disaster. But America has a wealth of options for someone in the situation I was in.
I ended up at a fantastic university — one with a palm-lined campus lined and a diverse student body. It was an experience that helped shape me. And it was an experience that defined the success I would see in adulthood.
The outcome was not guaranteed. But the opportunity was all I needed.
There are many things I’m not a fan of.
Fish tacos, cold showers, and the Houston Astros represent just a few.
But Communism is another.
You see, I was born at the tail-end of the Cold War. I’m too young to remember the Berlin Wall falling. But I know what that moment signified.
No longer would the model of equitable outcomes envelop the world. The model of equitable opportunities had won the day.
Communist models still persist in China, Cuba, and other nations. But the global ideological chess game has softened considerably.
Still, if you look around America — the pinnacle of democracy and capitalism — you’d hardly know that the Cold War is behind us.
A full generation after the fall of the U.S.S.R., many Americans are still unclear what was won. They fail to understand the difference between equality of opportunity and equality of outcome.
The recent battles over history curriculums in schools illustrates this precisely.
In the wake of protests in the name of social justice, schools are taking a fresh look at our past. History is typically written by the victors, and that is as true in America as anywhere else. We’ve maintained a rosy view of the past without considering its discriminatory undercurrents. The collective project to teach our history more candidly is meant to change all that.
I don’t have an issue with this approach. Education is a better way to address the sins of our past than wiping its remnants away. And such an approach has worked before. Notably, it helped postwar Germany reckon with the horrors of the Nazi era.
Still, many others do not share my view. They’ve labeled such reforms Critical Race Theory. And they’ve claimed that educators are imposing socialism on our society. This has led to heated debates at school board meetings across America. And it has caused many states to restrict changes to historical curriculums.
These developments both amuse and sadden me.
The ideal behind the curriculum changes is equity of opportunity. Educators want to promote a fair playing field, which was sorely lacking during the eras of slavery and segregation. Only by reckoning with that contradiction can we escape its doom cycle in the generations to come.
And yet, Critical Race Theory opponents view the curriculum updates as promoting equity of outcome. They feel such changes are tantamount to providing handouts to some, rather than a fair chance at success to all. They see it as a betrayal of the democracy that they’ve benefitted from.
It’s tempting to point a finger at the misguided. It’s satisfying to call out their privilege and their bigotry. It’s easy to demonstrate that Critical Race Theory is, in fact, something entirely different than what these proposed changes advocate.
But such pettiness misses the point.
If we can’t tell between opportunities and outcomes — if we can’t distinguish between the starting gates and the finish line — then we’ve all lost.
I grew up with the blessing of good fortune.
I wasn’t born into wealth or prominence. But I found myself with an abundance of opportunity.
I had the freedom to pursue my dreams without anyone putting up roadblocks in my way. It was a luxury that sadly was not commonplace.
As I progressed through elementary school, my dreams gravitated around the game of baseball. I hadn’t participated in Little League, but I was determined to make up for lost time.
I spent plenty of hours playing catch or working on my batting stance. And all this preparation paid off. I became a full-fledged member of my middle school baseball team.
But by the time I got to high school, it was clear the dream was fading. I had a long swing at the plate, and I was slow to read fly balls in the field. Plus, I threw from a funky arm angle, causing the ball to tail off at the last minute.
The Junior Varsity baseball coach added me to the team after tryouts, but as a player-manager. I only got three pinch-hit at bats, although I singled in two of them.
The next spring, the door closed on my baseball exploits. The coach cut me from the team after tryouts.
I could see the pain in the coach’s eyes as he gave me the news. I had worked on fielding with him over the summer. I had joined the cross-country team — which he also coached — in the fall to stay in shape. I had been a model teammate and done everything he’d asked of me.
But I wasn’t any good. And my presence on the team would deny someone else the opportunity to suit up and play.
I should have been devastated by all this. I should have been distraught at the dashing of my dreams.
But instead, I was grateful.
I was grateful for the opportunities that I was given. I was grateful to be held accountable for what I did with those opportunities. And I was grateful that this outcome would give someone else an opportunity to do better on the diamond.
I was an immature teenager, still finding myself and my way in the world. And yet, I knew the difference between opportunity and outcome. And I understood the dual importance of maintaining a fair playing field and judging results on merit.
This isn’t rocket science. I’m sure millions of other Americans could figure this out too.
But this requires us to look inward. To think for ourselves, rather than parrot the words of others. To provide for others what was granted for us, rather than guard it under lock and key.
I don’t know what it will take for us to get to this point. The forces tearing us apart are the same ones keeping us from such introspection.
But I truly hope that we will be there someday. That we will understand that the principles of merit-based achievement on a level playing field is the most American concept of all. And that we will do all we can to make that happen.
Our future depends on it.